


In A Hole In The Ground (It Was Naptime)

by badskippy



Series: A Hobbit's Hole (er I mean SMIAL!) [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Feminist Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is at his wits end (have you met his kids?), Frodo is a poop-head (just ask his little sister), Thorin has to come home (He just HAS to), and there is a disagreement regarding equality and nap-time (Bilbo blames Dis)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Hole In The Ground (It Was Naptime)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT A NEW STORY - I HAVE SIMPLY DECIDED TO GO BACK TO A SERIES FORMAT.

* * *

 

 

            “It’s no fair, Papa!” Jewel Baggins said with a glare. “It’s fender desecration!” The little girl glared at her Papa pointedly, taking a nibble from the cookie in her hand and purposely ignoring her brothers who were sitting at the table, doing homework.

            Bilbo Baggins closed his eyes and sighed before looking at his youngest. “You mean ‘gender discrimination.’”

            “See,” Jewel said pointing a finger at Bilbo. “Evens you agree!”

            “Sweetheart,” Bilbo corrected. “I’m merely correcting your terms. It’s ‘gender’, not ‘fender’, and it’s ‘discrimination’, not ‘desecration.’”

            “Well, it’s still no fair!” Jewel said with a pout and crossed her arms over her chest to emphasis her point, and pointedly ignoring Frodo’s snickering.

            Bilbo knelt in front of his daughter, placing his hands on her shoulders gently. “Sweetheart—it’s only a nap.”

            “But the boys don’t have to take naps,” Jewel said throwing her brothers a dark look and clearly feeling that Bilbo was bias.

            “Sweetling,” Bilbo said, almost at the end of his rope, “you are only seven. Frodo is sixteen and Frerin is twelve—your brothers don’t require naps anymore.”

            “Because they’re boys?” Jewel leveled a scathing look at her Papa.

            Sweet Yavanna, help me, Bilbo thought. Jewel was like a cat with a mouse; there was just no escape.

            “No, honey,” Bilbo stated with a shake of his head. “Because they’re older.”

            “So it’s age desecration,” Jewel said nodding her head.

            Bilbo deflated a bit. I am going to have to have a long chat with Dis about making sure she clarifies the differences between standing up for female equality and naptime.

            “You’re just scared,” Frodo said with a sideways look, “because there’re monsters under your bed.”

            “Frodo!” Bilbo said sharply. Honestly, it was bad enough when Jewel went to bed at night, all I need now is for her to be scared during the day too.

            “I’m no scared!” Jewel said with a weaver of doubt.

            “I’ll nap with you, Jewely-Bug,” Frerin said smiling, kneeling down next to his sister. He was always so sweet and protective of Jewel, it was a touching sight to Bilbo.

            But Jewel was not having any of it. “NO!” She said, pushing Frerin hard enough so that he lost his balance and fell on his rump. “I’m an indemendant wyman!”

            “Independent Woman,” Bilbo correctly gently.

            “That’s right,” Jewel was glad her Papa got it. “I don’t need any help from male channelist!”

            Frodo rolled his eyes and said, “That male ‘chauvinist’, milk-breath.”

            “Them too!” Jewel shouted, throwing her cookie at Frodo, hitting the older boy right smack in the middle of his face, and then stomped off to her room.

            “Hey!” Frodo said disgruntled. “She threw her cookie at me!”

            “Well,” Biblo said with a cocked eyebrow. “That’s what you get for being a male channelist.” Bilbo reached over and helped Frerin stand up.

            “I was only trying to help, Papa,” Frerin said softly. Clearly Jewel’s rejection had stung him—he adored his little sister to no end.

            “I know, sweetie,” Bilbo said. Honestly, his middle child had such the tender-heart. “She’s just tired and you know how she gets when she’s tired.”

            “Like Aunt Lobelia,” Frodo said dryly.

            “Watch it,” Bilbo said with a pointed look. “That name’s a curse word in this house.”

            No one in the smial noticed a certain determined little Hobbit-lass walk right out the front door and off towards Hobbiton.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            “Don’t you have any normal pans, Master Burrows?” Lobelia asked with a sneer.

            “No,” Tosco said flatly. In all his life, Tosco Burrows never disliked a person more than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Forgetting all the trouble she had caused to Bilbo and Thorin, Nevermind all the vitriol she spewed on a regular basis regarding their children, putting aside the woman’s constant attempts to get him to sell her his best work for next to nothing, her voice alone made his teeth itch.

            “I’m shocked to see the quality of your wares go down to such levels,” Lobelia added just loud enough for it to carry to the back of the forge where Thorin was working.

            Tosco knew damn well what it was all about.   

            It all started a few months before. Gemma Greenfield, one the first in Hobbiton to openly support Bilbo and Thorin, and who adored their children due to the most unfortunate inability to have children herself, had come in looking for a repair. Gemma was well known for making and selling the best griddlecakes at the market and her old pan had accidentally gotten damaged. She had only wanted to fix the pan, but Thorin saw right off that the pan was too far-gone; it would have to be recast. Taking it on himself, Thorin had not only made the pan bigger—allowing Gemma to cook four griddlecakes at once, but he had remade the wood handle—carving gentle grooves, allowing Gemma an easier but firmer grip.

            But the best part was the inside of the pan. Thorin had put Dwarf patterns on the bottom of the pan and when the griddlecakes came out, they were marked with the designs.

            Gemma was amazed at her new pan and a week after receiving it, came in with a huge basket of griddlecakes for Thorin—it seems that his designs had made the already popular cakes even more so, and Gemma ended up selling twice the number she normally did.

            That opened the floodgates. Everyone wanted a pan like Gemma’s. But Thorin didn’t want to take away from Gemma’s success, so he made each order unique and different. Suddenly, now everyone wanted more—soon Thorin was making bookends, fire pokes, shelf supports, even door handles and locks, why even Tosco’s own wife had asked Thorin if he would put designs on the new pot-belly stove Tosco was making for her.

            Many thought that Tosco would be angry, but the opposite was true. Thorin took on all the special orders while that left Tosco to complete the regular orders and concentrate on his own specialty—farm and gardening equipment.

            But sadly, while most loved what Thorin was doing, there were those that scoffed and openly dismissed the beautiful designs. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and her gaggle of old biddies were the most vocal. They would often come in and complain about Thorin’s work without mentioning him directly and tutt over ‘poor quality’ or ‘low standards’ or something equally nasty.

            Frankly, Tosco was not putting up with it anymore.

            “Listen, Lobelia,” Tosco said, abandoning all formal titles. “I ain’t had a single complaint over their making, so thems all the pans I got.”

            Technically it was a lie. Thorin had made a few that were completely devoid of any Dwarf designs and an even small number that had no designs whatsoever. But these Tosco sold to those that were polite and kind, those that simply asked for something more Hobbity—Thorin had made it clear that he wouldn’t force his work on anyone that didn’t want it.

            When it came to Lobelia, however, Tosco was more than happy to force her. “So, buy it or don’t,” Tosco demanded as he and Lobelia squared off.

            They argument was placed on hold, however, because at that moment a very determined fauntling marched into the forge.

            “Adad!” Jewel called out.

            “Jewel,” Thorin said, laying his hammer down and walking over to kneel before his daughter. “What are you doing here, mizimel?”

            “You have to come home right away,” Jewel stated fiercely.

            “What’s wrong?” Thorin asked concerned.

            “I need you to come home,” Jewel said again.

            “What happened, mizimel?” Thorin asked, but he was already taking off his leather apron, preparing to leave.

            “You just have to come,” Jewel stepped forward and grabbed his hand.

            “Alright, alright,” Thorin said as Jewel started pulling him towards to door. “Tosco, I’m not sure—”

            “No worries, Thorin,” Tosco assured him. “There ain’t nothing going on. You take care of your little one.” Tosco gave Jewel a wink as the little girl smiled up at him.

            Of course, Lobelia and her sister-in-law said nothing; both just stood there looking at Jewel as if the child were an insect or something contagious. However, as with every child, Jewel didn’t miss a thing.

            “Adad,” Jewel said as they exited the smithy. “Is something wrong with Miss Lobelia? She looks like she has been sniffing horse-pooh.”

            Thorin stifled his grin but Tosco’s booming laughter followed them as father and daughter walked on.

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Bilbo was just finishing up the second batch of scones, when he heard the front door open. Who in the world is coming through the door at this time of day? It better not be Lobelia come to moan and groan about some nonsense! But when he looked out of the kitchen towards the front hall, he was certainly surprised.

            “Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “What on earth of you doing here?”

            “What’s wrong?” Thorin answered. “Jewel said I was needed home.”

            “What?” Bilbo was confused.

            “No, Adad,” Jewel insisted, pulling on Thorin’s hand urgently. “I need you!”

            Thorin allowed himself to be pulled along, Bilbo following close behind and the boys, naturally curious—nosey more like—came up from behind. Jewel led the whole family to the doorway of her bedroom and stopped there.

            Thorin was completely confused now as Jewel just stood there and pointed into her room with imploring eyes. Thorin didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

            “I don’t understand, mizimel,” Thorin stated.

            “You have to check my room,” Jewel demanded before looking down at her feet and adding softly, “Frodo said there were monsters.”

            Thorin gave his oldest son a pointed look. “It seems your brother and I will need to have a chat later,” Thorin said dryly and noted the deep blush on Frodo’s face.

            The boy tried to back away, but was stopped by Bilbo’s hand gripping his arm tightly. “Make that both of us,” Bilbo added.

            “I’ll search for monsters, Jewely-bug,” Frerin said giving his baby sister a smile, stepping around the little girl and entering the room, alone.

            “You will help,” Thorin said, pulling Frodo forward and nodding towards his sister’s bedroom.

            Now with both brothers searching her room, Jewel looked sheepishly to her Papa and Adad.

            “Why didn’t you just ask Papa or the boys to begin with?” Thorin asked kneeling down to Jewel’s height. He didn’t mind one bit that she came for him but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine her reasoning for coming all the way to the forge to get him.

            “Well,” Jewel said, giving another glance between her fathers before looking down at her feet again. “Frodo was being mean and I thought he wouldn’t look good, and I pushed Frerin down and I knew he would hate me forever and ever—”

            “I would never hate you,” Frerin said looking from Thorin to Bilbo; a horrified expression on his face.

            “He would never hate you, honey,” Bilbo said. Honestly, Frerin would hurt himself before even thinking of hurting Jewel.

            “You still could have asked your Papa,” Thorin continued.

            “I couldn’t,” Jewel said miserably. “He was busy baking and cooking, and if I stopped him, every meal would be late!”

            Thorin looked at Bilbo who could shrug. Where does she get this stuff?!

            “So you came all the way down to the forge to get me,” Thorin said, amused now at the explanation. How could one not love this little girl?

            “Papa always says,” Jewel said innocently, “that you go down there to chat and play around with Mister Tosco.”

            Oh crap.

            “Play. Around,” Thorin shot Bilbo a raised eyebrow and waited for the stammering to start.

            He didn’t have to wait long.

            “What I meant, love,” Bilbo tried to get out coherently, “was that you—you, uhm—”

            “Pray tell me, love,” Thorin said sardonically.

            “You—enjoy,” Bilbo tried to get out, “going down there—to the forge—going to the forge, and—uhm, and—you like spending time—with, uhm—Tosco, and—”

            “Oh, sure,” Thorin said, obviously having no sympathy for Bilbo’s discomfort. “It’s not like I am working or filling orders for Tosco. We’re just gossiping and playing around.”

            “That’s what Papa said,” Jewel added sweetly, not realizing the damage she was doing.

            “I don’t have to deal with Lobelia,” Thorin continued, “and her friends and their snide comments, on a regular basis, against my work.”

            “She looks like she was sniffing horse-pooh, today,” Jewel said brightly.

            “She looks like that every day,” Thorin, Bilbo, Frodo and Frerin all chorused dryly.

            “So,” Thorin moved on, “I only go down there for gossiping and playing around?”

            “Thorin,” Bilbo said with a giggle that was lost on his husband. “I didn’t expect—”

            “What?” Thorin pushed. “That Jewel would be listening?”

            “Well,” Bilbo’s ears turned a brilliant red. “Yes.”

            Neither adult noticed Frerin’s arm come out from around the bedroom doorframe, grab Jewel by the back of her dress and pull the little fauntling into the room and out of the line of fire.

            “I see,” Thorin said taking a step towards his husband.

            “Thorin, darling,” Bilbo said with a laugh.

            “I suppose when one spends all day playing in the garden and eating scones—”

            “Excuse me—”

            “Oh, sorry—I forget you also have tea and chit-chat with Bell Gamgee—”

            “Now, just see here—”

            “I can only imagine that your view of ‘work’ is a bit, skewed?”

            “Why that isn’t—”

            “It isn’t what? Accurate? Fair? Maybe it’s close to, slanderous?”

            Bilbo knew that the only thing for it was escape. “I need to check on my scones.”

            As Bilbo took off at trot, Thorin wasn’t done. “ARE THOSE THE SCONES YOU GOSSIP OVER WHILE YOU PLAY AROUND AT TEA?!”

            “I can’t hear you, Thorin,” Bilbo called back as he ducked into the kitchen.

            “Then let me make it clear!” Thorin bellowed as he followed Bilbo.

            By now, though, it had become a game and Thorin pinned his husband against the kitchen counter. “Admit I am right.”

            “No, you are totally wrong,” Bilbo said smirking.

            “Admit it,” Thorin said reaching for Bilbo.

            The Hobbit knew what was coming. “Don’t you dare tickle me, Thorin Oakenshield!”

            “Oh—what are you going to do, tell your friends?” Thorin grabbed Bilbo about the waist.

            “I MEAN IT, THORIN!” Bilbo’s voice hit unprecedented decimals.

            But it was too late. Thorin dug his blunt fingers into Bilbo’s side and Bag End was filled with Bilbo’s shrieks and laughter. Thorin was laughing as well, especially as Bilbo was hitting him about the chest and shoulders but to no avail.

            “STOP IT!”

            “Admit it!”

            “NO!”

            “Yes!”

            Bilbo reached out blindly and grabbed the first thing he could find. With a great swing of his arm, he ended up dousing Thorin with a small bag of Flour, covering the Dwarf in the white powder from head to waist.

            There was a brief moment where there was no movement as Thorin spit out the flour that had gotten in his mouth. Bilbo was stunned and could only stare as Thorin’s eyes opened to reveal a fierce glare.

            “Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said, trying to control his giggles. “Darling, I am so sorry.”

            Thorin just spit out some more flour and narrowed his eyes.

            “Sweetheart, honestly, I am so sorry—I just reached out and grabbed—”

            Bilbo didn’t finish that sentence as Thorin had picked up the pitcher of milk and proceeded to pour it over Bilbo’s head. Bilbo stood there as the cold milk ran down his head, all over his shoulders and upper body, to drip on the floor.

            Thorin roared with laughter. “Admit it! You gossip yourself.”

            “Fine,” Bilbo said in amused defeat. “Yes I gossip with Bell and you don’t go down to the forge just to play around.”

            Thorin leaned forward and kissed his beloved. “Thank you,” Thorin said with chuckle.

            Bilbo started to giggle and returned the kiss. “You will help clean up this mess.”

            “Of course,” Thorin said—he had no intention of making his love do all the work.

            Thorin shook out his hair and Bilbo dried himself off as best he could when they realized they were not only alone but that it was very quiet in the smial. They went back to Jewel’s room and found that all three of their children were asleep on Jewel’s bed, the little girl snug between her two brothers who had their arms crossed over her in protective embraces.

            “You know,” Thorin said, wrapping his arms around Bilbo from behind. “They have a very good idea.”

            “What do you mean?” Bilbo asked, although he had a good idea.

            “Why don’t we take a bath and lay down ourselves,” Thorin said softly.

            “But I’m not tired.” Bilbo answered leaning back into his Thorin’s chest.

            “Who said anything about napping,” Thorin whispered in Bilbo’s ear.

 

 

 


End file.
